Gun In Hand
by NoPleaseStayHere
Summary: AU. No Wolves. Stiles brings a gun to school. Rated T for language and violence.


Stiles slammed his locker closed, still reeling from the events of the day. It had been fucking terrible. Jackson Whittemore had intentionally spilled burning hot coffee on his arm, thrown the lacrosse ball at his crotch, and had punched him three times.

Ontop of that, last night he had a nightmare in which his mother had come back to life. Well, not back to life, really. Came back, as a ghost, throwing up blood, threatening Stiles, his father, basically anyone. He begged her not to leave him again, and he woke up crying.

Stiles walked out of school as fast as he could before he started crying again, reliving the dream. He bounded down the stairs of the school and sped over to his jeep. Just as he came to the blue vehicle, he saw a big, fresh silver scratch mark running the length of it.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed. "What the fuck?!" He punched the side of his truck and clenched his jaw, willing himself not to cry. Not here, not now. He sighed and opened the driver-side door, thinking of something to tell his dad. Just as he closed the door, he saw none-other than Jackson smirking at Stiles as he drove out of the parking lot.

Stiles raced home, high on anger. As he got out of his car, he took a good look at the giant scratch on his car again, which made his blood boil even more.

"Scott. Dude." He said into the phone receiver once he was inside his house. "What the fuck did I ever do to Jackson Whittemore?"

He heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line. "I don't know, man. Maybe its the whole Lydia thing. Why, what happened now?"

"Jackson fucking scratched my jeep! HE SCRATCHED MY JEEP, DUDE." Stiles started to pace around his kitchen, fiddling with the phone cord. "I just - I don't even talk to Lydia! I mean, she won't talk to me. And everyone knows I have a crush on her, but I don't _do _anything. I'm fucking harmless."

"Did you see him scratch it?" Scott said.

"Well no, but I saw him smirk as he drove away. And he punched me. And through that lacrosse thing at my balls today. He fucking hates me for no reason." Stiles started to search through the fridge. "I need to do something tonight. I think my dad has some beer or something in here. You up for it later?"

"Actually.. Uh, Allison and I are supposed to do something tonight."

"Dude, I'm begging you. Fucking worst day of my life."

"Yeah, okay. Yeah, I can cancel. I'll text you later, man." Scott breathed hard into the other line. "And calm down, okay?"

Stiles searched the cupboards for something that would take his mind off the events of the day. "Yeah. I'll see you later." He hung up the phone, then took a bottle of Scotch out of the top cupboard.

Around ten o'clock that night, Stiles and Scott pulled up to a part of the woods that was sectioned off. 'Restricted' the sign said. Both the boys got out of the car and walked directly past the sign.

"I'm still steaming, dude." Stiles huffed at Scott. "What gives him the right?"

"I don't know Stiles. I'm sorry man, but I think he's just got it out for you. You'll just have to deal with it.. Or talk to him." Scott said as they made their way into the thicker trees.

"I don't want to deal with it. What can I do? Look at me. Sarcasm is the only defense I have." They made it to two flat rocks and sat down. Stiles pulled the bottle out of his backpack and unscrewed the top. "Oh god, that's disgusting." He held out the bottle to Scott.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm just here cause I'm such a good friend." He smirked at Stiles, who he could barely see in the moonlight.

Stiles scoffed. "Yeah. Well, thanks for listening to me vent." He took another long swig of his Johnnie Walker and made a face. "Jesus, I should've gotten mix."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "And maybe a fire or something. It's dark and kind of cold."

Stiles took another drink. "It's not that bad, you pussy." He joked.

"Watch it," Scott laughed. "I gave up sex for you."

"God, don't even talk about sex," Stiles said. "What I would do to be having regular sex.."

"I don't want to know," Scott laughed.

"...with a girl, and not my hand," Stiles took another swig.

"Maybe you should slow down on the booze," Scott suggested, still laughing. He sat up, trying to get comfortable. "It's getting cold out here, dude." He rubbed his hands together.

"Take some Johnnie! Make's you nice and warm." He took another swig.

"Somebody has to take that jeep home buddy."

"Fuuuck." Stiles took another swig, and chugged. "Fucking_ scratched _jeep."

"Seriously dude, slow down."

"Seriously dude, fuck off. I told you I wanted to drink tonight." Stiles played with the bottle he was holding. "Jesus, lighten up."

"Look, man. I don't mind keeping you company, I don't mind you venting, and I don't mind driving you home. But I'm not cleaning up after you puking your brains out. And you need to slow down. I gave up my plans for you." Scott said, standing up.

"Oh, saint Scott, being the designated driver." Stiles muttered. "It's one night of you not seeing Allison. Big fucking deal. Go home if you don't want to deal with me." Stiles took another big swig, then stood up as well. He swayed slightly and had to catch himself.

Scott muttered. "Fine, Stiles. I'm leaving, but I'm not leaving without your keys. You're not driving home like that."

Stiles pulled his keys out of his pocket and dropped them, dramatically slowly, into Scotts hand. "There you go, oh great one. Goodbye. Have fun fucking your girlfriend."

Scott muttered something Stiles couldn't understand, then shook his head as he walked away.

"GOODBYE," Yelled Stiles as he ungracefully fell on his ass. He took another long swig of his Scotch, not leaving much in the bottle. He looked around in the dark. He was all by himself in the dark, cold woods. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, _he thought.

He was out there for a couple more minutes by himself, taking a couple sips here and there, when he heard footsteps, laughing, and loud talking.

He looked up to see Jackson, Danny, Lydia, and a couple more guys from the lacrosse team.

"Fuck," Stiles muttered.

"Well look who we have here!" Exclaimed Jackson loudly. "What the fuck are you doing here, homo?"

"Jus'.. you know, jus' drinkin' Jackson. I'm not drinkin' Jackson I'm drinkin' Johnnie Walker, but I'm drinkin'!" Stiles tried to explain. "I'm drunk."

"Get the fuck out of here. Why are you drinking by yourself in the woods? Are you a park ranger?" Jackson laughed.

"This is America." Stiles tried to sit up straight, tried to make himself bigger. "It's a free country."

"You're right." Jackson spat. "Which is why I can do this." Jackson knocked over a nearby garbage can, sending garbage everywhere. "Now pick it up, you fuckin' faggott-ass park ranger!" He yelled.

"Jackson stop," Lydia whispered.

Stiles got to his feet suddenly, forgetting about his Scotch. "What the fuck!" He exclaimed.

Jackson smirked. "Pick it up."

"Fuck you!" Stiles spat.

"What did you just say to me?" Jackson's eyes narrowed. He walked closer to Stiles, until their chests almost touched.

"I said fuck you! What the fuck is your problem with me!"

Jackson took a deep breath, then pushed Stiles' chest. "I'll fuckin' show you,"

Stiles tripped over a rock as Jackson pushed him, sending him to the ground. Jackson followed, his closed fist rising high in the air, then coming down hard on Stiles' jaw. Then again, on his lip. He thought he heard Lydia telling Jackson to stop, but he wasn't sure. He felt another crack right about his eye. He tasted blood.

"Stop," he spat.

He laid there until the thought he heard them leave. Eventually, he opened his eyes. One of them was swollen, a slight crack remaining open. His lip was bruised and bloody. He spat out blood. "FUCK!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

It was a long, long walk to his house. He sobered up quite a bit from the cold, and the adreneline pumping through his veins.

When he opened up his front door - quietly - he looked around for his dad. Surely, he had to know a whole bottle of Johnnie was gone (not to mention his only son).

"Stiles?" His father called. Stiles looked around. He was on the livingroom couch, gripping a bottle of rum. "Stiles." His dad repeated, more of a mutter this time.

"Dad?" He questioned. Was his father drunk? "What happened?"

"God, I miss her." Mr. Stilinski slurred. "Why'd - why'd this have to happen to us? To our family?" He cried. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't passed out, not yet.

"I don't know, dad." There was a lump rising in Stiles' throat. Thank god his fathers eyes were closed. "I don't know." He whispered.

"I just miss her so much."

"Me too, dad." Stiles whispered. "Go to sleep." _Fuck_, he thought._ I can't deal with this right now_. He turned and went upstairs to his room.

The first thing Stiles did was punch the wall._ I have to fix my life_, he thought. _I have to fix it_. He paced back and forth, trying to get his thoughts straight. _My mother is dead. My father can't get over that. Can I? Who could? The girl I'm in love with doesn't notice me. I'm getting bullied. My annoy my best friend and he would rather be with his girlfriend. _Stiles breathed out, trying to control his emotions. The lump in his throat was rising._ Everything would be okay if I could just fucking get back at Jackson. Prove I'm not a pussy. I just need to show him_.

Stiles looked up, a smirk on his face, a thought suddenly coming to him. He made his way out of his room and across the hall. He looked around, making sure his father didn't suddenly sober up and come to bed. Once in his fathers room, he opened the bedside table. He took a deep breath, opened the door, and took out his fathers' "for emergencies or intruders only" gun.

Once and for all, he would prove to Jackson he wasn't a pussy. Jackson wouldn't fuck with him anymore.

Stiles breaths came out ragged as he thought about the gun sitting in the bottle of his book bag. _I'm not going to use it_, he thought._ I'm just going to scare him_. He opened the door to his locker, fumbling with his books. First period was his study period. He gathered up some books, his book bag, and headed down to the library. He took another deep breath.

_What am I doing? _He thought.

"Hey Stiles," a voice called out beside him. He jumped about ten feet in the air.

"Holy fuck," he muttered. He turned to see his best friend. "Hey," He said.

"Jumpy are we? Woah, what happened to your face?" Scott started walking with Stiles towards the library.

"Oh, Jackson and his gang found me in the woods the other night."

"Shit, sorry dude." They went down the stairs towards the library doors.

"No, it's okay. I'm taking care of it." Stiles swung the doors open with force.

The two of them found an empty table in the middle of the library. Scott had taken his books out and started working, while Stiles just sat there, not letting go of his backpack, shaking his leg and foot up and down, up and down.

"Hey park ranger!" He heard the voice from behind him. Loud, and obnoxious.

"Fuck off, Jackson. Seriously," Stiles warned.

"Just ignore him." Scott said under his breath.

"Yeah Stiles," Jackson laughed. "Listen to your girlfriend. Just ignore me." He touched the back of Stiles' head as he looked for a table of his own.

"Don't touch me!" Stiles exploded, jumping up from his seat.

Jackson stopped dead in his tracks. "Watch what you say to me, you fuck." He spat.

Stiles started to unzip his backpack. "No," he started "You watch what you say to me."

Jackson walked closer to Stiles "What? You want another ass-kicking?" He started to laugh.

Stiles took the gun out of his backpack and pointed it at Jacksons face. He didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He just breathed out, deeply. He clenched his jaw as he pointed it straight, his hand never shook.

"Woah." Jackson cried, taking a step back. "Dude, cal-calm down. Please, I was kidding." Jackson didn't know what to do.

"Stiles." Scott said steadily, looking up from his work. "Stiles. Put that down."

"Step the fuck back!" Stiles screamed at Jackson. For once, he was in control of this situation.

Jackson took another step back, and placed his arms infront of his body, trying to distance himself more. "I was joking. I'm sorry. Don't do this."

"You're ruining my life." Stiles said slowly.

"Stiles," Scott tried again. "What are you doing?"

"What's going on?" Stiles heard a little voice from behind him, coming from the shelves. He turned, slowly, not wanting to put his back towards his enemy.

"Lydia?" Stiles cried, "No! Get out of here!"

He heard her voice take a sharp in take. "Oh Stiles, what are you doing?" She breathed quietly.

"Fuck!" He yelled. He barely noticed as the librarian scurried out of the room. "I need this stupid asshole to stop ruining my god damn life! And this is the only way to show him that I-" his voice caught suddenly and he stopped talking.

Lydia pushed past him, walking over to Jackson, who was now a good distance away from him. "Stiles, please."

Stiles paced, back and forth, between the table he sat at with Scott, and the bookshelves. He took deep, ragged breaths, torn between what he wanted to do.

"I need the shit to stop." He muttered.

"You're scaring me," Lydia told him, who was now covering Jacksons shoulders with her hands.

"I'm scaring myself," he cried.

"What if I.. what if, what if someone charged him?" Scott whispered to Jackson.

Apparently, he had not been quiet enough. "Charge me?!" Stiles cried. "Charge me?! Fuck you, Scott! FUCK!" Stiles screamed.

"Just stop, man." Scott whispered. "Just stop this, before anyone gets hurt. Before this has to go any further. I'm sure you could just go home, nothing has to hap-" His voice broke.

"Do you know what it's like to wake up every morning and be me?" Stiles asked, his voice rising. Tears started to fall down his face. "I have to wake up, and see my heart broken father. Have to come to this shit school and deal with assholes like him," he gestured to Jackson with his gun. "And get ridiculed and teased and fucked with," he spat the word. "And the one person I could count on, he completely leaves me, forgets about me, for one girl." He takes a deep breath, tears still streaming. "I fucking hate my life. I miss my Mom." Sobs wracked his body now.

"Stiles," Scott said, tears of his own forming. "Man, we'll get through his. We can, I don't know, but we can fix this. You don't have to do this.."

Stiles walked to the back on the library, where nobody could see him. He slid down the wall, tears still streaming down his face. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He put the gun to his temple.

It was a sound none of them would ever forget.


End file.
